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I'm sitting in my room, my hands holding my head,

hoping tonight, I'm going to lay on my death bed.

Cuz i can't get what i want, i can't get what i need,

my brain won't allow myself to plant the seed.

Something's holding me back, it's that i'm too fuckin shy,

Oh, god damnit, why wont let me die?!

The demons in my head, that once were easy to sustain,

have grown too large now, and i can't contain.

So, shall i fight on or shall i submit,

I'm waiting to sleep but i just can't quit.

I'm sinking in quicksand, an i just can't get out,

no body can hear me, no matter how loud i shout.

I feel death creepin on me, everyday of my life,

should i put a bullet in my own head, or drop on a knife?

I got a gun in my hand, and it's a nickel-plated mag.

I wake up, throw over the covers, to see if i got a toe tag.

I look in the mirror and the reflections the devil,

am i raising or is he lowering himself to my level?

Finally, but too late, i get a call from a friend,

agian, it's too late, i'm already dead.